


The Halfling's Concern

by bofurrific



Series: Hobbit Drabbles [13]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:42:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bofurrific/pseuds/bofurrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme Fill</p><p>PTSD Thorin. Bilbo comforts him after he sees Azog and has something of a breakdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Halfling's Concern

It is late in the evening and the camp has settled down, the adrenaline of seeing the lonely mountain off in the distance, of their narrow escape with the aide of the eagle, is wearing off, and most of the company has slumped on the ground around a small fire when Bilbo notices Thorin is missing.

The others seem unconcerned, but not in a cold or unfeeling way, simply as if they had expected his disappearance Even Gandalf looks unworried as he settles himself in against a tree and tugs his hat over his eyes.

Bilbo takes it upon himself to look for their wayward leader. He doesn't notice that Dwalin almost raises a hand to stop him, and is halted by a shake of the head from his older brother. Balin has seen much, the king's nightmares when he gets any sleep at all and his singleminded need to fulfill their quest, and knows he cannot help Thorin, thinks maybe this young hobbit, who has brought a smile to the king's face, brought humility to him and wrung apologies and hugs from him, can help where he has failed.

Bilbo shuffles along, feeling brave enough, or at least safe enough, away from the howls of the wargs and cries of the orcs far behind them, to wander a little ways from the camp, until he cannot hear the dying chatter and crackling fire. He ambles about the forest until a new sound reaches his pointed ears: a choked and muffled thing almost like a whimper or sob, and it stills everything in his bones and sets his blood with ice. 

Bilbo Baggins always kept to himself in the shire, staying out of business that did not concern him, and even though the company afforded him the opportunity to meld into the group and really begin to be one of them, he still kept off to the side and was for the most part content to do so. But Bilbo Baggins was also a respectable hobbit, not the kind who could walk away when faced with the sounds of someone weeping.

Without thinking that it could be something dangerous, Bilbo follows the sound and is surprised to find Thorin Oakenshield seated on a fallen tree trunk with his head in his hands. The great king's shoulders are trembling and the harsh choked off sounds are coming from between his fingers.

Thorin's head snaps up when he hears the approaching hobbit, one arm immediately grabbing for Orcrist and the other swiping across his face to hide the evidence of his shame. "What do you want, halfing?" He snarls, voice significantly less threatening than usual around the knot in his throat. Gone was the gratitude and affection he had shown the burglar on the cliff's edge a few hours before in the face of his frustration. "Leave me be."

Bilbo holds up his hands in defense but makes no move to leave. He takes this moment to really look at Thorin. The king's eyes were ringed with dark circles and lined with stress and grief. It was obvious now that he wasn't sleeping well, that their quest had been weighing heavily on his shoulders and his mind since long before they set out from Bag End, and Bilbo could hazard a guess that the return of Azog, Thorin's mortal enemy he had been so sure was slain, had simply pushed the king over the edge of his capabilities to deal with these things.

Chancing further alienating Thorin, who had just begun to except him, and possibly risking a limb as orcrist was still in Thorin's hand, although it had begun to tremble, Bilbo makes his way timidly over to the king and takes a seat beside him on the tree trunk and said says nothing.

Thorin sits warily, gingerly, and looks away from the young hobbit, swiping again at his face as his eyes were disobeying him and leaking more frustrated tears down into his beard. He releases his sword and takes a shaky breath, head turned far over his shoulder away from the hobbit's gaze. He almost jumps when a small hand closes over the back of his neck, thumb rubbing gently along the base of his skull. The halfling's face is drawn in a soft sad expression of concern and Thorin feels a fresh wave of grief wash over him. He places a hand on Bilbo's forearm and gives him a kurt nod of thanks.

He is surprised then, when Bilbo shifts, clears his throat, and awkwardly opens his arms, encouraging Thorin to lean into them. It goes against everything he has been taught, everything he believes, to depend on another for such a weakness, but the hobbit is warm and soft and risked his life to save his own, even after everything he had said and done to the burglar, and Thorin finds himself burying his face in Bilbo's curls, letting the hobbit's arms close around his waist. 

Bilbo's little hands thread through his hair and rub down his back, and Thorin closes his eyes against another rush of tears that come unbidden, the knot in his throat escaping in another sob, choked against the hobbit's hair that makes Bilbo's arms tighten around him, and Thorin wonders distantly how one so small and insignificant can make a king feel safe.


End file.
